The Faded Lilies
by Beelsebutt
Summary: Harry needs something, and there is only one man who can help him. Harry/Remus slash. Both are adults. Post-war fic. Please, note the rating and warnings inside! Pic from Google!


**A/N:**

This fic is a spinoff from my multi-chapter fic "Hetki auringossa" which has not been translated into English — yet. Super thanks to my awesome translation beta, Zsanya!

This fic was translated from Finnish. The original fic "Haalistuneet liljat" can be found on my Livejournal, under username 'epakelpo'. There's a link on my profile.

**Warning: Includes adult themes. Also, there's a big age difference between the main characters but Harry **_**is**_** already 18.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Potters, J.K. Rowling does. I'm not making any money with this, so don't sue!**

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><p><em>~.~.~<em>

**The Faded Lilies**

_~.~.~_

Remus started as the door to his apartment opened and closed abruptly. Before he had time to grab the wand in his pocket, Harry pulled down the hood of his Invisibility Cloak and his head appeared out of nowhere to float in thin air.

"I need help," he said, breathing rapidly, superficially.

"Of course," Remus acceded. He marked his book with an old postcard, placing it between the pages, and rose up.

Harry drew a deep breath, held it for a while, and then let his Cloak slide on the floor, exposing himself as naked as the day he was born.

"I need you, Remus," he said timidly, blushing slightly.

The book fell on the floor from Remus' hand and thumped against the coffee table as Remus drew in a sharp breath. He felt himself harden in a second, possibly in a half, just by staring at Harry's naked body. It shone by the light of the fire, and the flickering shadows outlined details he had never noticed. His hungry stare feasted on the sight of the thin arms, the rapidly rising chest, the dark trail of hair that led to...

Remus moistened his lips slowly and fixed his eyes upon the engorging, quivering member between Harry's thighs. Finally, his stare rose to meet the green eyes, darkened with lust.

He made his decision right then and there, or maybe it had already been made when the Cloak had fallen carelessly on the stony floor. For Harry stood in front of him, bare, succumbing, and he had no choice, no means to retreat, no strength (nor will!) to prevent what was going to happen.

Again, his tongue flicked between his lips, and Harry's eyes darted to them, like a snake just about to attack its prey, admiring their moistened, reddish glow. His shaft gave a twitch as if it, too, wanted to see what had caught its owners' eyes.

Remus strolled nonchalantly around the sofa, past the dresser, and with slow, calm pace circled around Harry. His fingers travelled from his neck to his back, drawing invisible lines between his shoulder blades, ascending all the way to his hips, and curving to grasp the flesh on his waist. He pressed himself against the pale back, and his rock hard shaft protruded distinctly from beneath his robes, nestling between Harry's round buttocks.

"You need me for what?" he murmured darkly and drew Harry even tighter against him, snarling involuntarily, as Harry pushed his back fully against his body, entangling their fingers together.

"For this," he answered, his voice strained, and drew Remus' hand to his cock.

Remus muttered incomprehensibly against Harry's neck as he squeezed Harry's fully grown shaft by its base. Harry sighed and pressed ever closer to the swelling hardness behind him. Remus' breath grew deeper, and he rocked against Harry's hips, at the same time pulling back and forth the foreskin over his rock hard flesh.

"Remus," Harry breathed, breaking the silence. He stepped to the sofa and bent over, supporting his palms on the plush furniture.

Remus' lips and teeth drifted from Harry's neck to his shoulder, paused to have a taste of the distending shoulder blade, licked the hollow of the spine. Hips against hips, he slid his hand around the buttock, past inner thigh, to the base of the testicles to search, to seek, to find that particular spot that made Harry yell out loud, and shiver, and clench the plush coat of the ancient sofa, his knuckles white with strain.

Still, the hand continued higher, all the way to between the cheeks, past its target only to come back circling, caressing, teasing. Harry trembled. He could not be still but either he could not (would not) move, but tensed waiting, succumbing, wanting.

A finger circling, tantalizing, and finally (with a whip of a wand) impaling him, bringing along the cool smoothness of the spell, giving him the most bizarre experience of his young life. He gasped for breath as Remus loosened his muscles, stroking, stretching, seeking for the first time that something, something he longed to be found. Remus advanced patiently though the whole of his body screamed to hasten, to selfishly take what was his.

"For this, too?" he grunted, and another finger followed the first one.

Harry whined aloud his cheek against the warm plush, and squeezed his eyes shut. Soon the pain subsided and the strain felt only peculiar until it, too, was forgotten as Remus found his leaking member again. His hand focused on the tender tip, spread the slickness back and forth, back and forth, his thumb circling the apex, brushing the ledge, and soon he was near, so near, fighting for breath.

And then, Remus was gone leaving Harry feel empty and incomplete.

And then, he was filled like he had never been filled before.

And it hurt. It hurt so much that he roared with pain and thrust his fingers through the fabric of the sofa, his nails scraping the fillings, his tears watering the faded lilies. Remus' lips trailed his back, his hand brushing his tender nipples, another roaming his belly, his groin, and finally his half-scared cock. And Remus did not move, just stayed put and let Harry calm down, relax, re-arouse as his patient hands were everywhere, his gentle lips whispering lovingly in his neck.

"More," Harry croaked hoarsely as the suspension grew too intense and he couldn't stay still anymore. He nudged himself towards Remus.

Remus was happy to comply. With inhuman strength he had managed to keep himself still as his shaft pulsated inside the tight gap that milked his self-control thinner, and thinner. Only thanks to the clenching of teeth and years of practice (and love) he had always endured, and endured, and endured, but now his control was finally gone. He pulled out, howled aloud and pushed back in despite Harry's whine, deaf to the yelling, only feeling a hot arrow strike him every time he thrust into Harry, claiming him, impaling him against the creaking sofa.

And Harry surrendered, pressed flat under Remus' rhythmic plunging, his cock pushing against the plush, and one by one his grunts, sighs, whines grew louder and louder.

Remus could not (would not!) slow down — his fingers gripping Harry's forearms, and his strained lips baring his teeth, biting down on the tense shoulder. He pressed his teeth against Harry's neck and penetrated him again, and again, and again, seeing nothing but white sparks behind his eyes and tasting nothing but Harry's salty sweat, and with his last inch of restraint he loosened his jaws just before his teeth were about to pierce through Harry's skin.

Harry's senses were on fire, and he was filled with Remus' shaft as the man pounded him, his hands pinning Harry on the spot and his teeth marking Harry as his own. And he surrendered right there, against the flowery sofa, fully and unconditionally. And when Remus drilled his throbbing, erupting cock into him harder than ever, Harry screamed and came onto himself and the lights spun in his eyes.

They fell on the soft carpet in a pile of sweaty, sticky limbs, and Remus slid out of Harry, wearily, and enfolded him with his arms. He panted into his neck, still trembling at the afterglow of his orgasm.

"Harry, Harry harryharryharry..." Remus repeated over and over again, and Harry kissed the tears off his cheeks.

"I love you," Harry whispered to the red, still murmuring lips.

Remus gazed at Harry's blissful expression, and placed his hand above his heart.

"This belongs to you."

_~o~_

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

There's a weird, somewhat different style in this story, and it is totally different than my usual straight-to-the-point style, especially when writing PWP's. So, I'd really, truly love to hear your thoughts about this one!


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